Love You Through a Brick Wall
by EbonyBeach
Summary: AKA Five Times Owen Ravishes Cristina Against a Door... And One Time He Can't. Post 9.09.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I started this back in December, post 9.09, and it's been ongoing since then, but is finally a few tweaks away from completion. This chapter is a baby one to get us going - they do get longer! Current word count is ~10,000. I will update soon. Hope you enjoy it!

**Love You Through a Brick Wall**

_AKA Five Times Owen Ravishes Cristina Against a Door ... And One Time He Can't. Begins immediately post 9.09 - "I wanted to try again"._

_I_

"_B__ut one kiss levitates above all the others. The_

_intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.  
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.  
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,  
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones."_

_Jeffrey McDaniel ~ The Archipelago of Kisses _

_I_

This is an _I love you _kiss. It's _I think you're beautiful_ and _I can't breathe without you _and _I will _always_ be in love with you_ all rolled into one and dancing from his tongue to hers, from his fingertips to her skin, from his heart right out into forever.

It's their _I'll love you through a brick wall _kiss. _I'll hold you here against this door and never let you go. Here's my soul – please, take it. Hold it in your hands; let it warm you up and steal your breath away._

"Come here."

_Fall into me. Let yourself go. I've got you. I will always have you._

Whispers and kisses melt into one another like snowflakes on rosy cheeks. They move, or the ground moves, or something happens but she's not really sure because there's only his warmth and his hips and his mouth on hers, all combining to make her world spin right off its axis.

And then suddenly, blue eyes meet brown and everything just stands still. Her heart thunders. There is nothing and everything to say all at once. Where do they start?

"I love you."

_Always._

"I love you."

And just like that, their brick wall cracks. He pulls her into his arms again as it begins to fall apart; kisses her to drown out the sound of sadness and regret crashing to the floor.

They stand there, with their feet in the rubble of the past year of their lives, until she takes his hand and leads him away from it all. To another room; one with clean tiles and big windows where the sun comes shining through.

One where they will sit side by side and rebuild each other from scratch.

_I_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: So here's where we go slightly off-canon and into the land where there's no stupid loophole with the insurance company. Thank you all so much for reading.

**Love You Through a Brick Wall**

**Chapter 2**

_I_

Life moves on quickly, hastened by the lawsuit. They sign divorce papers with tears in their eyes, clinging onto one another's hands for dear life. When the insurance company confirms their payouts, fifteen million dollars apiece, they celebrate together in his trailer with expensive scotch, reminiscing about the early days of their marriage and toasting its ending with bittersweet smiles. They are different people now, they realize. Older, wiser, less selfish; more grateful for the things they have, and for one another. Their relationship now is almost unrecognisable from the mess they've left behind.

And the main reason for this is that they actually talk. In fact, they talk all the time: all night every night until they fall asleep on each other, fully clothed, with smiling, kiss-stained lips. Sometimes they revisit the past; sometimes they share details of their day or ideas for the future. She tells him about her time in Minnesota - all the gory details which still make her cringe - and she knows it makes him sad even though he does his very best to hide it.

She is honest because she has to be – _they_ have to be, in everything, forever more – but it makes her sad too. Sad to hurt him again after all this time; sad that she didn't realize sooner what the failure of her pathetic liaison truly meant – that she belonged to Owen Hunt, and no one else.

He had her at _"So?"_ and he's had her ever since. In heart, mind and body.

Especially in body. Especially when they're done talking for the night and he just won't stop kissing her, which would be fine except he won't do anything else either. Their relationship now is slow and steady and that's right - but it's also incredibly frustrating. Weeks of careful rebuilding has left them exhausted but rejuvenated, and their desire for one another is immeasurable; their restraint almost all gone.

It's the way he looks at her sometimes, like when she's speaking and she knows he's watching her mouth and not listening to a word she's saying. Or, on the occasions she manages to leave the trailer and go home before she falls asleep there, he kisses her goodnight and his gaze dances down her body of its own accord; he lingers too long and pulls her hair too roughly and tries not to make noises deep in the back of his throat.

One night he follows her out of his trailer where they've had dinner and spent almost four hours talking, and he begs her not to go. "Stay tonight. We can cuddle and I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

"Owen I can't," she sighs, turning to him with a smile beside her car. "Early start. And you slept on my arm last night. I just about regained full function by the time I started scrubbing in on my first surgery."

He steps forwards to embrace her and she lets his weight hold her gently against the car door. "Well, if you'd agree to stay over properly and get ready for bed, instead of just falling asleep wherever you feel like it, then that wouldn't be an issue."

There is so much hope in his eyes, so much boyish charm, that she almost gives in. "You know I want to." She runs her fingers down his cheek. "But we decided on six weeks minimum and it's only been three. We're not going to ruin this again."

"I know. But you're just so beautiful." He kisses her softly. "And so hot. And so amazingly sexy. And I love you."

With every word a little bit more of her melts and then the air begins to fill with murmurs and moans and white swirls of breath which escape into the night from the tiny gaps between their lips. It's all too easy for them to fall into this, into one another; into what they know and love most of all. But it was their downfall once and they can't let that happen again.

His hands find their way beneath her coat and onto her bare skin, and she gasps his name.

"Stay," he whispers, spreading his fingers over the small of her back and holding her tightly against him. "Please stay, Cristina. I need you here with me."

"I can't," she says again, willing herself to stay strong. Somehow she just knows that if she stays tonight, they will end up having sex. Lots and lots of hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex. And while that's exactly what both of them want more than anything right now, the last rational part of her brain knows it's not what they want in the long-term.

They want forever, but forever takes a _lot_ of patience.

She meets his gaze and he seems to have worked all this out for himself as well. "One day," he murmurs with a resigned smile, "You'll stay. You'll say yes. And I'll keep asking until you do."

"You better," she warns, reaching up for another kiss. Her mind is still on the saying yes part, the scorching hot sex she knows is waiting just around the corner, and it's difficult not to get carried away.

"Now you have to go," Owen says at length when her eyes finally refocus on his, "Because if you stay a minute longer I won't be responsible for my actions."

He steps back so she can open the car door and climb in. With a smile and a sigh, she tells him easily: "I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

In the car, her heart rate begins to slow and she is glad she stood her ground. They're not ready for more just yet. Despite having talked more than ever before, and despite Owen's reassurances that their separation made the choice between her and children an easy one, she just doesn't feel that the time is quite right. She's waiting for that moment when everything falls into place; when she no longer feels uncertain about any single aspect of their lives.

She can feel it coming. But there's one thing which still weighs on her mind; one issue she has which she so desperately wants to share with him but knows she can't. Certainly not right now, when she's not even sure of it herself. The effect it might have on him could either be minimal or change his entire life once again, and she can't take that chance.

Despite her early start she sleeps badly that night, deliberating her options until it's almost time for her alarm to go off and she's finally made up her mind.

She's not going to tell him.

And she desperately hopes that's the right thing to do.

_I_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Once again your reviews have made my week, thank you so much. :)

**Chapter 3**

A few weeks later they are having dinner in one of the most exclusive hotel restaurants in Seattle, simply because he wanted her to wear her long, black dress again; the one he sees in his mind every time he thinks about the day she came to him and told him she wanted to try again. She looks absolutely stunning and as they sip more champagne at the bar after their meal, he knows he's the luckiest man in the room.

"Thank you for coming to dinner with me tonight," he tells her, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. It's been the perfect evening and he feels utterly content.

"Thank you for inviting me," she replies with a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Dinner was awesome. And so is this champagne. I think maybe a little bit too awesome."

Owen laughs. "Are you drunk again?"

"No, just happy." She leans forward and kisses him. "Happy that we're here after everything. Happy I get to be with you for as long as you'll have me. Happy I get to wear this dress again."

His gaze falls downwards of its own accord. "I'm happy you're wearing it, too. But I'm starting to wish you weren't."

He doesn't realize what he's said until it's out there but Cristina just looks amused and, if he's not mistaken, suddenly very aroused.

"That's very forward of you," she murmurs, raising her fingertips to trail along his jaw. They look at each other for a long moment, knowing they are both thinking the same thing but wondering who is going to make the first move.

He feels like this might be it: the night when everything falls into place and they are finally ready to bury themselves in one another again. He didn't plan this dinner as a means of seduction but if that's the direction they're headed in, he certainly won't be the one applying the brakes. The hole she left in his life when she disappeared from it was far too vast to be filled by anything else – his job, another relationship, even a child – and he has had months to come to terms with this.

Cristina Yang is the only thing he wants, and he is ready whenever she is.

"Let's go," she says now, still holding his gaze. There's such sincerity and trust there that Owen can only take her face in his hands and kiss her; drawing her to her feet with him so he can pull her body against his. He's not even embarrassed by their surroundings nor the little moan that leaves his mouth when she slides her fingers into his hair.

After several moments of slow but desperately passionate kisses, she trails her lips to his ear. "Take me home, Owen," she whispers, and he can hear the pounding of her heart.

"Which home?" he whispers back, breathing in the glorious scents of her hair, her skin; committing them to memory. This is another snapshot of their lives he knows he will never forget and he wants to be reminded of it every time he catches her scent; every time he drinks champagne or sees her wearing this dress.

She looks at him again and says simply: "Our home. The Firehouse."

_I_

There's a storm raging outside, sheets of bitterly cold water slicing through the freezing January air. When their taxi pulls up opposite their building, Owen pays the driver and tells Cristina to wait while he runs inside to get her an umbrella. She watches as a light comes on upstairs and realizes she is trembling in anticipation. She's been thinking about this, and every possible fantasy variation, ever since she went to Mayo and was so thoroughly disappointed by what – and who – she found there. Owen is just incomparable. Being with someone she loves so infinitely is incomparable.

Together, they are incomparable.

She soon gets bored waiting in the taxi and decides to make a run for it across the street. The second she steps out into the rain, however, she is instantly soaked and so cold it actually takes her breath away. But then Owen appears at the door of the Firehouse again and she forgets all about the water streaming down her face and plastering her clothes to her body.

Suddenly there's nothing else in the world but him.

He looks so ravishingly handsome all wet through, shirt stuck to his chest, blue eyes on fire as he stares at her too. A fierce flame of desire licks its way through her body, torching every cell. Her heart races. This is the time, and they both know it. This is that moment in movies when two strangers' eyes meet across a crowded room and everything falls into place.

All she can think is: w_hat the hell have we been waiting for?_

She begins to move towards him but is halted by two cars driving past; they send waves of cold water up her legs and she barely notices. When he finally meets her halfway across the street, umbrella still rolled up and hanging uselessly in his hand, there's actually no point anyway as they can't really get much wetter. He links his free fingers through hers and they dash back towards dry land, Cristina crying out with breathless exhilaration. She doesn't think she's ever been this cold before and she doesn't care: she's never been this turned on before either, and that definitely takes precedence.

As soon as they reach the sidewalk she launches herself into his arms, kissing every part of his face that her lips come into contact with. It's no longer enough to just love him and love being with him again; to love the laughter and the fun, the feeling of belonging, of safety. She wants all of him, and to give him all of her. She wants that connection which is so effortless and so easy with him; that absolute vulnerability where she feels so at home.

She wants to bury herself in him and never have to come out again; to live with him and off of him, just the two of them; to never need anyone or anything else to survive, ever again.

He carries her up the front steps and they slip over the threshold and fall against the other side of the door, slamming it shut. Their kisses are wild and uncontrolled, lips slick against wet skin and hands impatiently roaming as they desperately try to rid each other of their clothes. The noises they are both making are bordering on animalistic. Now that they've decided it's time to let go of restraint, it's well and truly gone.

He pulls her dress over her head in one movement and lets it fall unnoticed to the floor as he takes a moment to stare at her. "Stay?" he asks urgently, running his fingertips over every inch of bare skin he possibly can, totally in awe of her.

"Yes," she breathes, reaching for him once again, giving herself to him. "_Yes._"

And once she's started saying it she just can't stop, repeating the word over and over as his mouth and fingers begin to play with all the parts of her which have been abandoned for so long. It's almost as cold inside the neglected Firehouse as out, but once they're out of their wet clothes and naked they make just enough heat to stay warm.

"I love you," he tells her desperately between scorching kisses, holding her in his arms with her back against the door.

"Love you too," she just about manages to say.

And then he's making love to her, or fucking her, or whatever; right there in their new old home. It's messy and quick and totally romantic, punctuated by endearing words whenever they can free their mouths for long enough. Even as they kiss she can't stop looking at his beautiful face, staring into his eyes and marvelling at just how much she loves him.

It's them. It's perfect.

It's home.

Afterwards he carries her upstairs and she finds tears springing to her eyes when she sees the flickering candles on the floor of their bedroom. It's not something he used to do often, and tonight it's just magic. They take a hot shower together and barely go a moment without some kind of connection between their bodies: hand on waist; thigh to thigh; lips to shoulder. She finds a half-empty bottle of shampoo in the cabinet and he washes her all over with it, refamiliarizing himself with every inch of her skin; with every whimper she makes as he lathers up her hair.

When they climb into their cold bed he wraps her up in his arms and as his heat envelops her, she feels an overwhelming sense of peace. They talk a little about the logistics of moving back in but really all she is concentrating on is the steady beat of his heart and the smell of his neck as she nuzzles her face there.

"Are you warm enough?" he asks at length.

She looks up at him and smiles. "Yes."

That one word says so much more than just answering his question. It says: _this is us, where we belong, and I'm staying for good._

She watches as his gaze falls to her mouth and then they start to move towards one another, his palm caressing her cheek as they kiss. This time when they make love, they savor it.

This time when they begin their life together, they will savor that too.

_I_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Apologies for the delay in posting. Heartfelt thanks to you all for your feedback - you're all so lovely, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. I'm heartbroken that Sandra is leaving, but long may Crowen live on in fanfic - maybe something like this...

**Chapter 4**

_I_

A year after their reunion and life is wonderful. They have redecorated the Firehouse, a fresh start, and it is once again their haven, their sanctuary to come home to every night. Cristina is excelling in both her Fellowship and her research, and Owen could not be more proud of her. And one of the biggest changes in their lives is the frequency of visits from their friends and children: Meredith and Derek with Zola and baby Bailey, Callie and Arizona with Sofia.

It wasn't a quick process, like Cristina had suddenly had a complete change of heart. But slowly she began to enjoy spending more time with her godchildren; began to marvel at their development - at Bailey's insatiable curiosity, at the new words Sofia was learning on a daily basis, at how smart Zola was turning out to be. Initially it took Owen some getting used to - seeing his wife read to the girls or rocking the baby until he fell asleep - and he had to remind himself that he'd come to terms with the fact she did not want to be a mother.

Which he has - most of the time.

Now, true to their resolution to be completely honest with one another, he can tell her how he is feeling and they can talk openly about it. Ultimately he loves Cristina more than anything else, and when she tries to apologize for upsetting him he reiterates this until he's satisfied she understands. Anyway, he too is incredibly fond of his friends' kids and loves having them in his life as much as possible, so it has become a very neat solution to what was once an impossibly difficult problem.

But life is not just wonderful because of the Firehouse and work and friends and children – life is wonderful because every day they love each other more and more. Every day they smile and laugh and take care of one another. Every day she is thoughtful in ways he's never known she could be, and he hopes he is doing his best by her as well. It's the perfect marriage, just without the paperwork.

And that all changes one afternoon in early February.

It's the first of three days they have off together and they lounge around in bed for most of it, alternately reading, eating and seducing one another. This time it's Cristina's turn and she does it so well, using that gorgeous mouth of hers in all sorts of wicked ways which leaves him begging for more. When she gives in and climbs on top of him, setting a tortuously slow pace, he can only look up at her in amazement: her wild hair and sexy smile; beautiful body and delicate fingers which intertwine with his to hold herself above him. She leans down to run her nose along his before kissing him, and then the words are out of his mouth before he knows anything about them.

"Marry me."

Her eyes meet his and they are wide in surprise but she continues to move above him, slowly and expertly making him lose his mind.

Or maybe he's just lost it.

"Are you serious?" she whispers, searching his face, and he suddenly knows that he is. Wherever those words came from – and they certainly weren't pre-meditated – he has never felt surer of anything. Despite their already incredible relationship and despite what happened last time they boxed themselves in, he wants her to be his wife again: to let her know she will never feel alone or want for anything; to legally and formally commit to love and treasure her for the rest of his life.

"Yes," he tells her, squeezing her hands in his. "I'm serious."

He can read all sorts of emotions in her eyes, the most prominent still being shock. And then that changes; her hips still and the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly.

"Then yes."

He feels a sudden burst of emotion in his chest. "Really?"

"Yes!" She giggles and he can't help but laugh too as he kisses her fiercely, rolling them over and continuing exactly where she left off but now with renewed fervour.

"I love you," he murmurs as she moans beneath him and tangles her fingers in his hair. "I love you so much Cristina."

His words seem to make her control slip even further and she bites down on his bottom lip as she quickens their pace. "Love you too," she breathes. "So much. Always."

And so they celebrate their engagement doing what they do best, but it's not until a little while later that it actually sinks in. "We're getting married," Cristina says suddenly as they are dozing, curled around each other under the covers despite it being four in the afternoon. She is lying with her head on his chest, her face hidden. He hopes she's not regretting her answer because nothing he's ever done before has felt this right.

"Yes."

"I'm going to be your wife again."

"Yes."

She moves so she can look at him. Then she smiles the most breathtaking smile he thinks he's ever seen. "Can we do it tomorrow?"

_I_

They get married the following evening in City Hall, Cristina using a small part of her many millions to persuade the marriage officiant to stay for one extra ceremony. She wears her beautiful black dress, the one which began their relationship all over again and reminds her of champagne and the rain and wet skin against a cold door. Owen looks impossibly good in a dark suit and tie, and she just can't take her eyes off of him.

Her husband. Again.

Afterwards he drives them out to the West Point Lighthouse and parks up overlooking the water. The sun has just set and the sky is a beautiful navy blue, freckled with stars. The last time they came here was about four months ago for his birthday and it was just as magical - she hopes that will never change.

Owen shuts off the engine and slides over to her side of the front seat. Then, with a little maneuvering, he pulls her onto his lap so they are both facing the view and wraps his arms firmly around her.

"Hello Mrs Hunt," he murmurs in her ear, intertwining their hands so that their eyes focus on their wedding bands.

"Hi," she replies softly, letting her head fall back on his shoulder; the same contented smile on her lips which has been there all day and isn't going anywhere soon.

She is going to wear her ring this time, she's decided. She is going to show the world that she belongs to someone; that she has committed to loving that someone for the rest of her life. This marriage will be so different from their last, as they promised each other the previous evening and as they reiterated just before they went in to say their vows.

"_When we got married the first time, I loved you so much Owen. I thought I couldn't possibly love you any more than when you gave me that ring and promised to be there forever. But I was wrong." She gently held his face in her palms. "I love you more every single day. I love who you are today more than who you were yesterday, and I love the person I've become because of you. And I hope we just go on like this, loving each other more and more, for the rest of our lives."_

_He didn't know how she'd done it, but she had managed to voice his sentiments perfectly. "I couldn't agree more, Cristina Yang. I can promise to love you more every day – you make it so easy."_

_She had laughed at that. "I know. I'm pretty great."_

"_You are. Now I can't wait another minute longer for you to be my wife again. Shall we?"_

"_Yes please."_

Now, as they sit in peaceful silence in the front of his truck, listening to the gentle lapping of the water at the shoreline, she knows they are both remembering those words. A shiver runs through her which has nothing to do with the cold evening air.

"I love you," she whispers, turning her face until her lips meet his jaw. She looks up at him and the adoration and joy in his eyes captivates her completely. Seconds, minutes pass. His hands are very slowly running up and down her arms and the shivers continue, but she barely notices.

"Thank you for giving me another chance," Owen says eventually, and so quietly she only just hears. His words, and the sudden gravity of his expression, take her right back to the hospital gurney near the ER where a broken man once asked for a second chance and she said yes.

And then she sees herself, years later and wearing the very same dress she has on right now, when she found the courage to ask for the same thing – and he kissed her and everything fell apart and was put back together all at once.

"We don't need any more chances now," she tells him, twisting in his arms so she is sat across his lap and able to face him properly. "This is it. You and me, forever."

They gaze at each other for another long minute and Cristina is once again blown away by the depth of her love for her gorgeous husband. She slowly runs her fingertips across his forehead, along his nose and over his lips; studying him for the thousandth time. She'll never get tired of looking at his face - absorbing every line and freckle, marveling at the slightly different colors of each of his eyelashes. She could live in this moment for the rest of her life and be perfectly happy.

He's looking at her in the exact same way too, and with every passing second the air around them is filling up with staggered breaths and fluttering heartbeats; with heat and anticipation and a very definite sense of the inevitable.

"This is turning out to be a very unconventional honeymoon," Owen murmurs, and it's almost a question – _do we really want to go down this road, right here, on our wedding night?_

She drops her hand to his chest and begins to loosen his tie. "This hasn't been the most conventional of marriages so far," she counters, starting to unbutton his shirt. She can feel his intense gaze on her face and the equally intense reactions of his body. "You proposed while you were inside of me, I bribed the staff at City Hall and I'm wearing a black dress."

She meets his eyes now and they both smile. "So I say... we can do whatever we want."

Her hands slip beneath his shirt to trace the muscles beneath, and then she starts to kiss him and she just doesn't stop. She feels his fingers gripping her hair and hears him moan into her mouth as the heat between them rapidly flares and then explodes - all of a sudden it's a hundred degrees and they are both on fire. He simultaneously pulls her tighter against him and pushes her backwards against the door as he kisses her to within an inch of her life, lost somewhere between function and desire; between ridding them of their clothes and just letting his body react to hers on the most carnal level.

She's lost too; lost in him, in her absolutely overwhelming love for and need of him. There is nothing beyond his lips and tongue, his beard on her hypersensitive skin; his fingertips on her calves, her hip bones, her ribcage. Then somehow her back is flat on the seat and their clothes are gone, but even this realization is fleeting as his mouth is suddenly between her thighs and the world tilts on its axis once more.

She comes in no time at all, as if she's been waiting for him her whole life, and then he's kissing her again and she's dizzy – high on him, on the deep blue of his eyes, on the thrill of being his forever.

"I love you," he tells her hoarsely and then he begins to show her just how much, showering her with kisses as they move slowly and exquisitely together. It's restrained, but only just. Inside she's burning up, her body unsure what to do with itself. Her muscles tense and relax, her eyes fluttering open and then closed again without really seeing anything beyond those beautiful eyelashes and a flash of white gold in red hair. She wraps herself around him, needing him even closer; trying to squeeze him so tightly that the lines between their bodies might blur and fade away. She's not sure if it's too much, if she's hurting him, but she doesn't think he would mind right now anyway.

Every sound is magnified in the small space: every noise their lips make as they come apart and meet again; every soft slap of their hips as they push increasingly desperately into one another; every breath and sigh, every gasp and moan - even the half formed ones that get stuck in the back of their throats. Just when she thinks she can't really take much more he pulls away completely and sits up, lifting her easily onto his lap to continue where they left off. He gazes up at her through heavily-lidded eyes, his big hands splayed out on her bare back, and whispers her name.

That's it.

Her heart constricts and she suddenly forgets how to breathe. She moulds her mouth to his, clutching his face as she rides him right to the edge, with her slick skin gliding over his and damp curls stuck to the back of her neck where he tangles his fingers. It's hot and sticky and glorious, and she doesn't ever want it to end.

"Come with me," her husband says, and she meets his eyes for the last time as she begins to do just that: arching her back and flattening her pelvis against his; fucking him all the way through her orgasm and into his. He holds her gaze the whole time, holds her body as still as he can so they can stay there together, sharing each other's ecstasy. Watching him come beneath her takes her further, as does his every last thrust, and it just goes on and on until she's dizzy once more.

She collapses on top of him, her face buried in his neck, and their chests heave against each other for a long time as they both try to recall who and where they are.

"Some honeymoon huh?" he says eventually, and she somehow finds the strength to sit up and look at him.

"Yeah. Wow."

He tenderly runs his fingertips down her cheek, brushing back a few strands of hair. His eyes search her face and she wonders what he's thinking.

"This is going to be some marriage, Mrs Hunt."

"I know. I can't wait."

He smiles a brilliant smile, no doubt a mirror of hers, and kisses her tenderly. With a sigh, Cristina slowly untangles her heavy limbs from her husband's and is half-heartedly trying to find their clothes in the dark footwell when he nudges her.

"Look – the northern lights."

Sure enough, even through the steamed up windows she can see that the deep blue sky is now glowing with the most beautiful green and turquoise swirls. They get dressed quickly and Owen gives her his jacket before they step outside to get a better view. In years of trying they've never actually managed to witness the phenomenon and tonight it is absolutely breathtaking, filling the sky above them as far as they can see in either direction.

"This is unbelievable," he says in awe, and the look on his face is completely adorable.

"I know," she whispers, but she's thinking of more than just the scenery. It's hard to believe they are really here and married again after everything that they've been through. She feels like their first marriage happened to two strangers. They rushed into it then and this wedding was even quicker, but there is one key difference - now they are on the same page. Now they are a team. Now they understand each other, they communicate, they care what the other wants. Now they love each other more than ever before, not despite but because of their flaws.

And while all this is absolutely true, and she would never have married him if she didn't believe it one hundred percent, there is still the one little thing on her mind which she has been keeping to herself all this time. One little thing she still can't tell him because she is _still_ deliberating it. Not often, not every day, but occasionally it hits her and she finds herself thinking it through all over again.

She does know that she's a bit closer to being able to confide in him but she's still not _sure_ and she's still not going to take the risk. She might never be able to, and he will never have known any different. And for the moment she is at peace with her decision - just as she is at peace in her husband's arms, on a cold February night, underneath the most beautiful sky.

Until one day, almost a year later, when everything changes again...


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: So, the penultimate chapter! I've had this scene in my head for a long long time - it's actually where this story originated from. Heartfelt thanks once again to those who left lovely reviews - you're all amazing.

**Chapter 5**

It's Zola's fourth birthday and the Shepherds' house is in chaos, filled with fifteen hyper children wearing party hats, with cake all over their faces and finger-paint in their hair. There are balloons and music and lots of laughter, and even Aunt Cristina - who has seemed a little distracted - thinks it has been a brilliant afternoon.

So brilliant in fact that is has actually changed her life - or it's about to.

Despite being at the party to help Meredith and Derek, she has actually spent most of the afternoon observing them with their two children - cuddling them, playing silly games, wiping juice off of their chins, conversing with them like the tiny humans they are. And then there's Owen, adorable as ever with Zola the Princess as she puts a blanket around his shoulders and makes him pretend to be a wizard who has to try and turn all her friends into frogs.

Watching them all giggle and run away from him, Cristina feels something suddenly shift. She looks at Meredith again, sitting on the floor helping Bailey make hand-prints on a big sheet of paper, and sees how truly happy her friend is: how much joy she takes from her son and daughter. And then she feels Owen's arms wrap around her waist from behind as he pretends to hide from all the 'frogs' who are now chasing him, and for the very first time she is _sure_.

A little while later the party starts to wind down and parents begin to turn up to collect their kids. Cristina slips away from the crowd and goes to find Owen, who has started cleaning paint pots in the laundry room sink. She takes a deep breath before stepping inside and closing the door behind her, where she hovers and tries to calm her racing heart. She feels weirdly nervous - it's now or never.

But then she looks at her husband, covered in multicolored paint just like she is – their clothes, faces and hair dotted with red, yellow and purple splodges – and when he glances up at her and smiles she is suddenly perfectly calm again. Everything comes back into focus. This isn't scary, it's the right thing to do. No more deliberating to herself, no more wondering what if. She is finally ready to tell him the one little secret that has been on her thoughts ever since she decided that she wanted to try again with him.

"Owen... I changed my mind," she says quietly.

"About what?" He continues to wash pots and brushes and she watches his hands as they work meticulously to clean off every spot of paint under the running faucet. He does wonderful things with those hands all the time. Now, maybe one day he'll be able to really put them to good use.

When she doesn't answer he pauses and looks up. Then he steps towards her, drying his hands on a cloth, and all she can think about is how big they look when he's holding Zola or Bailey; how they might look when...

"Sweetheart, what is it?"

She gazes into his eyes again; somehow they look even bluer than usual. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. Two years at least. Ever since we got back together - maybe even before that."

"Thinking about what?"

She ignores his question. She has one chance to do this and it has to be right. She has to explain herself fully so he understands that even though this will be the last thing he's _ever_ expected her to say, she is absolutely sure about it. She has looked at it from every available angle, examined her own feelings and speculated about his for months, and she is as certain of this now as she is of her love for him.

She takes another deep breath.

"I changed my mind, Owen. I want to have a baby with you. And before you say anything, I am one hundred percent sure and ready for this. And I love you more than anything else in the world."

She will never be able to describe what happens next: how one moment they're staring at each other in stunned silence and the next he's crushing her against the door and they've both got tears pouring down cheeks. She always knew how much this would mean to him – after everything they've been through, how could she not? – but she wasn't prepared for the look of complete elation in his eyes, the true extent of which she can only begin to imagine.

To be able to offer him something so precious, something she knows he has wanted for such a long time, is just the most amazing feeling. But she's not doing this just for him, as she would have been when she was pregnant before. Now she's in this too: she wants to have his child and be a mother and do all the things she has always been so terrified of before.

She draws back slightly and her lips seek his, trying to tell him through a kiss just how much she loves him. He responds, squeezing her even more tightly until she can barely breathe. Then she's looking into his eyes and through the tears she can see a million questions.

"Talk to me, Cristina," he manages to say, still looking as though he daren't believe what she's told him. He sinks down to the floor before his legs give way and she sits beside him, taking his shaking hands in hers.

"I have _never_ been around kids before," she says softly, figuring the beginning is probably a good place to start. "At med school I spent my pediatric attachments in the OR observing cardiothoracic surgeries, or in the library. I was that really annoying student who turned up on the last day, knew all the answers when the Attending quizzed me and got the top grade. And succeeding in medicine and in academia gave me such joy. It was what I lived for.

"I always had a life plan for myself and until I met you, I had no reason to alter it. Even when I was pregnant before I still didn't see a reason and I am _so_ sorry for that."

She looks down and her eyes focus on their wedding rings. After all this time, it's still not easy to talk about. "Going through with that pregnancy wasn't the right decision at the time and I stand by that, but I wish more than anything I'd tried harder to see that there was a reason to consider another life for myself - you. The Cristina I am today would have handled the whole situation completely differently. I hope you know that."

She looks up again and there is a small smile on his lips.

"I do."

She returns his smile and squeezes his hands. "It's not that I'd imagined having a baby and really hated the idea; I'd just never thought about actually _being_ a mother. I didn't picture my life beyond having an abortion and moving on. Apart from a few minutes when I was talking to Meredith, and I tried to imagine myself making jam. I hated _that_ thought – I still do, by the way." She makes a face and he chuckles.

"But for the last two years I have slowly been opening my mind to the possibility, and there are loads of reasons which have all been stacking up. You, for starters - because I love you and I want to give you everything in life. The way you are with kids is adorable, Owen. You will be _such_ a good father."

There are tears in his eyes again now but his smile is getting wider.

"And I'm different too," she goes on. "I barely even recognize the old me. I don't think I'm selfish like I used to be: I think I'm a good wife and I think I could be a good mother too. I mean, Meredith is doing it and she's all sunshine and rainbows now. And my research is going really well – I genuinely think we'll be able to grow entirely new hearts and vessels for patients in the next five years – so maybe I can focus a bit more on that."

She trails off, momentarily lost in vague thoughts about stem cells and possibilities, before bringing herself back to the present with a little shake of her head.

"But I think what has really swayed me is that I love Zola and Bailey and Sofia more than I ever thought I could. They're the first kids that have ever been a part of my life and they're awesome. I always thought children were dumb and annoying but they're intelligent and funny and charming. Professors the world over have written papers and textbooks on genetics and embryology, but they are still scientific miracles. It's absolutely fascinating to see them developing every single day; becoming real people with real personalities, even as babies. I know it used to hurt you to see me wanting to be more involved in their lives and I'm sorry again for that."

Owen shrugs slightly. "It did at first, until I got used to it. But sometimes I wondered if everything might have been different for us."

Cristina shifts position so she is facing him, looking straight into his eyes and willing him to understand everything that has led her to this moment.

"I wanted to tell you two years ago, Owen. I wanted to let you know that I was trying. I wanted to give you the hope that one day you might get to be a father. But what if I hadn't come around? Every day you'd wake up wondering if today might be the day I changed my mind, and what if it never was? I haven't felt comfortable keeping this from you but I couldn't tell you until I was absolutely certain.

"I'm ready for our huge life now. I love you and I want to have our own little family. I want to have a baby who is smart and curious and beautiful. I want to see the look in your eyes when you hold him or her. I want to see their first smile and first steps, to watch them discover new objects and sounds and tastes every day. I want to watch you run around with them in the park, and to go to their first show at kindergarten and be the proudest parent in the room."

There is a pause as her speech ends. Then, still looking completely stunned, Owen wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and leans forward to kiss her, cradling her face in his palms. "_I love you_."

There is more emotion in his voice than she has ever heard before.

"I know. I love you too."

He gazes at her for another long moment, clearly having trouble processing everything he's just heard. "So... what happens now?"

"Well, I think we need to move house - somewhere with another bedroom. And maybe a yard, although you can be in charge of maintaining it." She makes a face and he smiles. "And then... well, we let the birds and the bees do their thing."

"What about work? Will you really be happy just doing research?"

"I don't know," she says honestly, "but I'm willing to try. At least for the first couple of months anyway. If Callie and Meredith can be surgeons and mothers, there's no reason why I can't. And if I really need to cut something, I happen to know the Chief of Surgery at a hospital not too far from here..."

Owen blinks a couple of times in a really adorable way before saying quietly: "You've really thought about this haven't you?"

"Of course I have. You do know me, don't you?"

"I thought I did, but you have completely knocked the ground out from beneath me. I still don't know what to say."

"Yes?"

He laughs, and it seems to release some of the tension he's been holding in. "_Yes_, Cristina. Of course yes. I just... thank you. Thank you so much." There are tears in his eyes yet again as the enormity of the last half an hour hits. "You are the most amazing wife in the whole world and you will be an even better mother, and I love you more than you'll ever know."

_I_

Owen barely remembers the journey home or even leaving the Shepherds' house, save the image of Cristina holding up Bailey and kissing Zola goodbye: his wife, the woman he thought he knew inside out, who is now - God willing - going to be the mother of his own son or daughter. He's lost in a world of his own, his mind running at a hundred miles an hour over everything that has just happened, and everything that's about to.

He thinks he's probably still in shock, wired on adrenaline. He wants to run, to shout; to hold his wife, to make love to her; to not leave her side for nine months, until their child is ready for them to take care of and love and cherish for the next forty years. He still cannot believe that she's changed her mind after everything they've been through. And of course, it was the science that swayed her in the end. Cristina Yang, M.D., Ph.D., seduced into a life of diapers and play dates by her fascination with the most fundamental of biological and chemical processes.

The thought makes him smile – it's just so _her_.

But he knows better than anyone, including Cristina herself, that beyond everything else she has the greatest capacity for love. She has loved him through more than he ever expected, or deserved. She has always known when to make him laugh and when to just sit quietly and hold him in her arms. Looking back, even after the abortion and all the mess they made, there was never really a competition – he would choose her every day, in every way, forever.

And now she's ready for their huge life and it's just utterly unbelievable. When she came into the laundry room and stood so uneasily by the door, he never in a million years expected her to reveal that she wanted to have a baby. He feels like that was the start of a dream and he's still not woken up yet.

He becomes aware that he's leaning on the breakfast bar and his wife is asking him if he wants coffee, and as he slowly returns to the present he just has to ask, to check one more time that this is really happening before his brain can accept it as reality.

"Cristina, are you _sure_ about this? Really, really sure?" His voice has an unexpectedly desperate edge to it, and he realizes that he doesn't know what he'll do if her answer isn't the one he wants.

She turns to face him and gazes at him steadily for a long moment. Then, without a word or a hint of what she's thinking, she walks quickly towards the bedroom. After a beat, he follows. From her bedside cabinet she takes out a small bottle and places it in his hand.

_Preconceive_ _Folic Acid, four hundred micrograms._

"I bought these before Christmas," she says matter-of-factly. "I have the bill somewhere if you want to see it. I've been taking them for the last two weeks – since January first."

The way she's looking at him implies there is an ulterior meaning to this date, and after casting his mind around for a few seconds it comes to him. "New Year's dinner at Callie's."

Cristina nods as she reaches into her back pocket for her phone. He watches as she scrolls through her photos, his mind still reeling at the fact that she bought pre-conception vitamins a month ago. If anything could convince him that she has really thought about this, and that she is completely serious, it's this.

Eventually she finds the photo she wants. It shows the two of them sitting on Callie and Arizona's couch, with Sofia on Cristina's lap and Owen's arm around them both. They look like the happiest of families, and their smiles say it all.

"This is about _us_, Owen," she tells him solemnly. "It's always been about us. Work, friends, houses, how fascinating children are – that's not why we're doing this."

She throws the phone and bottle of tablets onto the bed and stands on tiptoes, placing her arms around his neck. On a normal day her proximity makes his heart stutter but right now, with the added weight of the last few hours, it feels like it's trying to beat out of his chest.

"You've always wanted a kid, and I've come to realize that I want _your_ kid. I want that picture to be a picture of our family, and I want to have it as my screensaver and put it on the dresser and send it to all our friends, gloating over how perfect we are. I am _sure_, and if you are too then we're going to try our damned hardest to make ourselves a perfect baby."

She presses herself closer and her gaze falls momentarily to his mouth, making his whole body tighten in response. His eyes focus in on a spot of purple paint on her left cheekbone and he thinks absently that she has never looked so beautiful.

"I don't know what else there is to say," she murmurs, her fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck. When she finally leans in and begins to kiss him, he doesn't protest.

When she steps towards the bed and whispers something about "practising," he beats her to it and pulls her down on top of him.

_I_

**n.b.** Folic acid should be taken by all women pre-conception and continued until 12 weeks of pregnancy (UK guidelines). ;-)


End file.
